


The Refractory of Regret

by shamelord69



Category: The Transformers (IDW Generation One), Transformers - All Media Types
Genre: Choking, Coercion, Dubious Consent, Facials, Humiliation, M/M, Masochism, Multiple Orgasms, Negging, Oral Sex, Size Kink, Sticky, Threats, Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-20
Updated: 2015-03-20
Packaged: 2018-03-18 17:59:18
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,680
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3578706
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shamelord69/pseuds/shamelord69
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>There were many things that Rodimus had once been sure were the worst mistake he’d ever make, but he realized that fragging Megatron might actually be the one that sticks.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Refractory of Regret

"You're _stupid,_ " Rodimus angrily spat.

There were many things that Rodimus had once been sure were the worst mistake he'd ever make, but he realized that fragging Megatron might actually be the one that sticks.

Why he thought that letting the former leader of the Decepticon army penetrate him might give him a leg up in their prolonged struggle for power, Rodimus had no idea. (Actually, he knew exactly why — engex and a cold berth explained it pretty readily.) All it'd really done was unencumber Megatron of even the flimsiest pretense of respect for Rodimus's command or body.

They were arguing about something stupid — he couldn't remember what, other than that Megatron had an utterly moronic standpoint. Rodimus forgot about the subject of his arguments with Megatron as he was having them, replaced entirely with blind resentment over the Decepticon's existence.

"I'm not going to dignify your namecalling," Megatron said, snide. He was stood across from Rodimus in Rodimus's quarters, arms crossed over his chest. He always spoke down to Rodimus and belittled him for anything that might resemble a feeling — Rodimus walked away feeling like a crazy person, no matter how blatantly Megatron had provoked him.

Rodimus clenched his fists at his side. "Then get out of my quarters."

Megatron pretended to be reformed, but whatever false show of remorse or compassion he conjured for the rest of the crew was nowhere to be found when he and Rodimus were alone. It was like he'd picked Rodimus as an outlet for all of those festering, lingering impulses — and Megatron brought the full package of sadism to the table.

It was all an excuse. Megatron didn't care about their next fueling stop, or energon ration distribution, or alt mode speed limits in the hallways, or whatever frivolous nonsense he'd come to complain about. It happened the same way, time and time again — Megatron came, made Rodimus mad, and then debased him in any way he pleased. At least today he seemed to be cutting to the chase pretty quick.

"It's funny, how much you and Starscream have in common," Megatron remarked, moving forward to intrude perilously into Rodimus's personal space. When Rodimus recoiled, Megatron only pushed in closer.

"Wh — I — _how?_ " Rodimus defensively demanded. With his back against his desk, he couldn't move any further away. "Why are you bringing up that hunk of garbage?"

"You both like to play at leader, despite being miserably suited to the task," Megatron said. Rodimus jumped when he felt Megatron's arm slip around his waist. An insufferable grin spread across Megatron's face, his voice pitching a little lower. "You both like to pretend that you don't want me." He pulled Rodimus against his body. He could clearly sense Rodimus's reluctance, but only responded by strengthening his grasp. "You both like it when I force you."

Naturally, this accusation did not incline Rodimus to submit to Megatron's advances. Rodimus's lip curled into a sneer and he jerked to tear himself away — this only seemed to give Megatron an opportunity to prove his point. He answered Rodimus's attempts to flee with forceful restraint. 

Rodimus writhed in Megatron's arms, trapped against his frame — Megatron had a leg between his thighs, forcing them spread uncomfortably wide. His range of motion was limited by Megatron's crushing embrace, but he did what he could to thrash and pound on his chest anyway. It didn't do him much good; Megatron just regarded him with an amused smirk.

"Frag off with this! Whatever you think it is that I want, you're wrong. Let me go," Rodimus protested.

His energy was wasted. Instead of backing off, Megatron leaned in to press his lips to Rodimus — first his neck, and then his jaw, and then his mouth. When Megatron's tongue intruded past his teeth, Rodimus bit down hard.

Megatron pulled back with a snarl, and Rodimus seized the opportunity to wrench himself free and swing a fist towards Megatron's head. It connected instead with Megatron's palm, which quickly closed into a crushing grip.

The pain in his hand was excruciating, but Rodimus kept swinging. He clumsily aimed his knee to strike between Megatron's legs, but the Decepticon easily turned it away with a thigh. When Rodimus next looked Megatron in the eye, there was nothing but mounting irritation.

Eventually, Megatron had decided that he'd had enough of entertaining Rodimus's struggles. In a swift motion, he grabbed Rodimus and turned him around, twisting his arms painfully behind his back. Rodimus thrashed despite the popping joints in his shoulders; when he proved to be more than Megatron cared to grapple with, he roughly slammed Rodimus's body over edge of his desk. 

"Stop. Stop it," Megatron said, dropping any pretense of amusement. His tone was serious and forceful and Rodimus resented how instinctively fearful it made him — like he was a sparkling again, being chided by his exasperated betters.

Rodimus couldn't help but freeze at the command. In the sudden silence of his stillness, he could _hear_ Megatron smile.

Megatron slowly leaned forward until his mouth was by Rodimus's audial; the warmth and weight of Megatron's body against his back made Rodimus squirm reflexively. "Listen to me," Megatron said, barely louder than a whisper — but this close, the bass in his voice may as well have been reverberating through Rodimus's entire frame. "I'm going to frag you."

Rodimus grit his teeth; his anger brought a wave of insolent courage back to the fore, and he resumed struggling uselessly against Megatron's grip. "Eat slag and die," Rodimus spat.

Megatron slammed Rodimus's head against the desk. 

Pain shot through Rodimus's skull and his optic feed momentarily burst into blind static. His temple was probably dented, from the feel of it; the searing agony was enough to take the fight back out of him.

"Listen to me, because I won't say it again," Megatron said. "I'm about to put my spike inside of you, and nothing you say or do is going to have any impact on the outcome of this." 

Rodimus braced himself as Megatron's hand trailed over the panel between his legs. He was too anxious to speak.

Megatron continued on when Rodimus made no objection. "So you have two options: you can let it happen, or you can fight me. If you give in, I will make this perfectly pleasurable for you. If you resist, I will beat you until you stop." Megatron activated Rodimus's manual release — the rush of cold air against his wet array was startling. Rodimus stiffened as Megatron's fingers ghosted over the rim of his valve. "After this, I am done holding back. If you continue to fight me, I am going to assume that you _want_ me to break you. Each hand that you raise to me, I will _shatter._ Either way, I will still take you — but this much is up to you."

Rodimus could have called his bluff. There was no way that Megatron would really cripple the captain — however much he would certainly relish the pleasure of breaking Rodimus's body, Megatron was too keen a social manipulator to really parade around such evidence of his depravity. Megatron's plan to truly undermine Rodimus's authority clearly entailed tricking the crew into _respecting_ him, and the jig would be up if people he didn't like started walking about with crushed limbs.

And still Rodimus couldn't will himself to fight it — not with his valve exposed and the heavy heat of Megatron's frame bearing down upon him. The most infuriating part of all of this was that Megatron was right — Rodimus _wanted_ this. He hated everything about Megatron, and he hated every single moment he was forced to suffer alongside him, but Rodimus could not deny that his body craved this kind of touch.

Rodimus knew it and Megatron knew it — he couldn't hide the wetness between his legs, nor the fact he'd evidently released and pressurized his spike without even noticing. Megatron's fingers dipped into him with little resistance. Rodimus's chest seared at the derisively amused noise Megatron produced.

"I've never met anyone who could take me so easily," Megatron noted, driving his digits in to the knuckle.

It was astounding how much biting condescension Megatron could pack into an otherwise unremarkable statement — he had made it implicitly clear how poorly he regarded Rodimus for his liberal history. Actually doing things like getting gang banged by six bots he just met never made Rodimus feel ashamed or dirty, and yet Megatron could fill him with humiliation with a sentence. 

"Just get it over with," Rodimus grit out. 

"If you please," Megatron said, releasing the hand still gripped over Rodimus's wrists.

Rodimus was relieved to relax his arms from their previous uncomfortable position. He moved his hands to grip the desk as the sound of Megatron pressurizing cut through the silence of the his quarters. He shuttered his optics and braced himself, apprehensive but eager, for the heavy pressure of Megatron's spike.

Instead, Megatron roughly flipped Rodimus over onto his back. It wasn't enough to debase him and frag him — he wanted Rodimus to suffer the perpetual indignity of being so _painfully_ attracted to Megatron's body.

And he _was_. Megatron's frame was a thing of perfection — of course it was — solid, beautifully formed and _enormous_. The sight of Megatron between his splayed thighs, thick spike looming perilously close to his valve, sent currents to Rodimus's already overcharged array.

It had exactly the effect Megatron was hoping for, probably. Rodimus spread his legs apart and whined, desperately canting his hips against Megatron's spike. "It's so big — you're so big," Rodimus whimpered. This basic fact never truly _eluded_ him, but it was like his brain elected to underestimate its size in his memories — it always seemed to come as a surprise when he rediscovered it.

"I am," Megatron pleasantly agreed. Rodimus didn't even bother trying to contain his pitiful moan when Megatron slid his spike between Rodimus's wet lips and over his pulsing anterior node.

"Oh _god,_ " Rodimus gasped, his head rolling back against the desk as Megatron lazily thrust himself back and forth over Rodimus's array. "Primus, _please_ —"

"See how much easier it is when you just behave?" Megatron said, laughing dryly.

Rodimus was past the point of caring about Megatron's petty jabs. "Just _put it in,_ put it in put it in put it in," he senselessly babbled, reaching down to do it for himself if Megatron wouldn't.

Megatron batted Rodimus's hand away and took his spike into his own. The underside glistened with the fluids from Rodimus's valve, which was now practically pouring lubricant onto the desk. He took a moment to savor Rodimus's look of desperation as he slowly stroked himself in his fist. Rodimus trembled each time Megatron's knuckles brushed over his array. "Tell me you want me," Megatron demanded. 

Rodimus didn't even have to think about it. He would have told Megatron anything in that moment, if it would've made the frag come any faster. "I want you," Rodimus breathed. He could've stopped there, but his mouth kept going. "I hate that you're so hot — I hate that I want your spike so bad — I love it — I love you —"

Megatron froze, a look of horror gradually spreading over his face.

"Wow, uh, that came out wrong," Rodimus said. "Obviously. Look, I'm basically gagging to get railed right now, can we let that one slide? I love it when you stick it in me is what I meant, so —"

Thankfully, Megatron appeared to decide that the best way to defray the tension was to just jam it in. 

Rodimus drew a sharp intake as the broad head of Megatron's spike pressed forcefully against the rim of his valve — Megatron had easily the biggest spike Rodimus had ever been with, not counting the few that were too big to even fit in his body at all, so even given the well-worn state of his equipment, it was a bit of an exertion to get it inside. Megatron approached the problem the way he did most things: by beating the scrap out of it.

Rodimus's body jolted as Megatron dug his fingers into his hips and harshly thrust again and again, driving deeper inch by inch with each attempt. Even as wet as Rodimus was, the stretch burned, but the pain was so satisfying and every roll of Megatron's hips brought him that much closer to finally being filled — it wasn't long before Megatron's spike was coated and wet and slid easily into his body.

Rodimus gripped tightly onto the edge of the desk as Megatron sheathed himself, valve rippling frenetically over the spike. He was panting without rhythm, plates shifting as he writhed, begging incoherently for Megatron to just _move_ — but Megatron took the time to let him acclimate, gazing down at Rodimus with darkened optics as his hands wandered Rodimus's body.

"You do have a well-built frame," Megatron absently admitted. He palmed over Rodimus's chest, uncomfortably close to his spark.

Rodimus was startled when he didn't receive a backhand with the compliment. Was that the first unadulterated nice thing Megatron had ever said to him? He decided not to dwell on it. "I know," Rodimus said, with a tinge of impatient irritation. "So hurry up and frag it."

Finally, Rodimus got his wish. Megatron gave him a snort and an optic roll but drew back, dragging his impossibly long spike out section by section, enjoying the way the rim would catch — and then he forced it back in to the core in a fast solid stroke that shocked Rodimus's optics offline.

Rodimus arched and cried out and clawed at Megatron to draw him closer and deeper, relishing the smothering size of the frame on top of him. His legs circled around Megatron's waist and the Decepticon savagely kissed him, all tongue and teeth with no pretense of intimacy — and Rodimus gave as good as he got, biting at Megatron's lips as he raked lines of paint off Megatron's arms and back with his fingers.

"Oh, god, Megatron," Rodimus moaned into his mouth as Megatron slammed into his body, striking directly at his ceiling node. "It's so — you're so — god — good — big — _yeah_ —"

Coherent sentences were a pipe dream at this stage. Rodimus felt so full and Megatron was moving so hard and fast and deep — Rodimus set into a cascade of full-on nonsense punctuated by undignified yelps. Megatron just growled.

"You're so noisy," Megatron caustically observed — but the snipe certainly didn't deter Rodimus from his racket, especially given that Megatron was rapidly pushing him to the edge. "So many words and so little said. Another thing you have in common with Starscream."

Rodimus had the worst timed overload in his life.

"Don't ever," he started, interrupted both by Megatron's unabated thrusts and his vocal systems bursting into static as rolling waves of electrifying pleasure coursed through his frame. "Ever — _shhhk_ — start talking about — _hnn_ — _Starscream_ — _kkkSSHSsk_ — while you're — _ah!_ — fragging me — _shshshsk_ — _again._ "

"I'll take your opinion into consideration," Megatron lied, and hauled Rodimus up off of the desk.

Being carried was certainly not the thing he first desired to experience in the aftermath of overload, but Megatron had thrown him down onto the nearby berth before he could voice a complaint.

The main issue with fragging Megatron was that he took a while to get off. There was no having a "quickie" when he was involved — you were signing up for at least a straight hour of getting pounded and he was not going to stop or slow down no matter how exhausted you were.

He certainly didn't have any consideration for Rodimus's refractory period. Rodimus had hated it at first, but he'd almost come to enjoy the feeling of being fragged straight through an overload — the overstimulation was painful, but there was a rush in overtaxing his systems. 

Rodimus scrambled to assume a manageably comfortable position on his front, because Megatron was upon him in an instant. Megatron had no reservations about just dropping the full weight of his body onto Rodimus's back as he mounted him, his spike sliding easily back into Rodimus's stretched valve.

Rodimus whimpered as he suffered the renewed onslaught — the bursts of charge that coursed through his array each time Megatron thrust to the peak of his valve were agonizing, and the pressure on the spike trapped between his abdomen and the berth certainly didn't help. But something about Megatron's fervor, the way he gripped Rodimus and used him and consumed him and treated him like a thing to be broken and discarded made something in his spark burn hot.

He loved getting messed up. He couldn't help it. The pain in his array only encouraged him to spread his legs further, to push back into every thrust in hopes that Megatron would properly break him — and soon enough his array stabilized and the pleasure came flooding back. 

" _God,_ Megatron," Rodimus choked out, flagging. Megatron's hands were all over him, lifting him up, stroking his chest, his abdomen, his thighs — when Megatron took Rodimus's spike into his fist, Rodimus all but gave out. It only took Megatron a few pumps in concert with his spike to bring Rodimus back to climax.

Rodimus just lay there and took it as Megatron screwed him through his second overload — the visceral contractions of his valve forced Megatron out, but that proved to be only a momentary setback.

Eventually, Megatron seemed to dredge up a semblance of mercy — he pulled out before the worst of Rodimus's refractory set in, but he clearly wasn't done. Rodimus didn't fight it when Megatron moved to roughly handle him again, this time forcing him down onto the floor.

Rodimus let himself fall to his knees and was instantly greeted by a spike in the face. He winced as Megatron let it heavily drop onto his faceplate, smearing his optics with lubricant. When Megatron took ahold of it and forced the head past his lips, Rodimus meekly submitted.

Rodimus choked as his jaw strained to take Megatron into his mouth. Megatron's spike was so hot and wet and sloppy, and he had no choice but to suck off the copious amounts of his own fluid covering its length. There was too much of it, and it made him feel a little sick, but he was also kind of relieved to have the reprieve from having his valve fragged.

All he could do was weakly suck and work his tongue against the head as Megatron gripped his skull and thrust into his face. The joints in his jaw were badly protesting, but his attempts to beat his fist against Megatron's thigh to get his attention went ignored.

He could tell that Megatron was at least close to getting off — he grew just a little bit louder as he thrust, more frantic, with little rhythm. 

Rodimus shuddered as Megatron finally came, shooting what felt like endless round after round of hot transfluid over his face. Megatron pulled away as soon as he was done, and without the harsh grip on his head to hold him up, Rodimus toppled to the floor, gaping and gushing and trembling from exertion. He didn't have the energy to do anything but just lay there brainlessly, intakes heaving and fans clicking.

"How close are you to a third?" Megatron asked — Rodimus's systems weren't functioning well enough for him to have any idea where he was speaking from.

Rodimus let his head rest face down on the floor. "Um… like, maybe two thirds of the way."

"All right. I'll finish you off."

Ugh. Rodimus was just so _tired._ He didn't even want to bother with getting off anymore. "No, it's fine, don't wo—"

Yet again, Megatron did not care about what Rodimus thought — Rodimus just sighed heavily as Megatron dragged his limp body up and back onto the berth.

Well, at least he didn't have to _move_ for this. Rodimus abandoned even the pretense of effort or participation, lying on his back like a pile of scrapyard trash as Megatron dragged his hips up to his face.

Megatron, at least, didn't bother to tease. He went straight for the node, sucking it into his mouth with the same forceful urgency that characterized his touch. He wedged a couple of fingers in there for good measure — the abundant accumulation of fluids in Rodimus's valve made terrible squelching sounds as Megatron raked his inner walls.

With Megatron's tongue and fingers working his valve, Rodimus's last overload came mercifully quick — it was a tremendous physical and mental relief when Megatron finally withdrew from between his legs, leaving him truly wasted.

 _Thank Primus._ Rodimus was _done._ He rolled back onto his front and lay still, just trying to let his disrupted systems restabilize. He was so _tired._

Megatron never stayed with Rodimus after they fragged, so to feel his continued presence even after they'd clearly finished was strange, and more than a little unwelcome. With the haze of lust gone, the guilt and self-loathing that had become part and parcel of their interfacing sessions were flooding back. _Great._ He tried to wipe the transfluid off his face.

"Why are you still here?" Rodimus eventually demanded, after Megatron refused to stop hovering. He didn't bother to even look at where the Decepticon was standing or what he was doing.

Megatron hesitated before he replied. "You said something earlier that —"

"Oh, god. Look, please just take me at my word when I say I don't _love_ you — I don't even _like_ you. I can barely tolerate you when you don't have your pipe down my throat," Rodimus said. "No one could love you."

Megatron answered with silence, but Rodimus didn't care. "Now get out of my quarters so I can recharge," he said, curling up into a very tremulous ball.

The sound of Megatron's heavy footfalls receding towards the door may as well have been music. As Rodimus plugged himself in and prepared to power down, he swore to himself that he would never let Megatron touch him again. _87th time's the charm, right?_


End file.
